


Props Department

by idgit_with_a_fidget



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Human Castiel, M/M, OOC fluff stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idgit_with_a_fidget/pseuds/idgit_with_a_fidget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are given detention, and are forced to spend an uncomfortable afternoon in each other's company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Props Department

Dean threw a garish floral top into a battered cardboard box with such angry force, anyone would’ve thought it had personally offended his uncle. His jaw was set and teeth gritted.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled, tossing himself down on the top of an oversized dusty suitcase and balling his fists. “I don’t even _like_ this place. It’s too crammed. The only reason I hang around the drama department is to check out the chicks.”

Cas folded a pair of corduroy trousers over his arm, not paying much attention. He’d had enough of Dean’s constant whining an hour ago. “If that’s your thing,” he mumbled absently. 

The blonde boy narrowed his eyes, bored and bitter. “Oh yeah, I forgot, I’m stuck in detention with the only guy in the school who jacks off to well graded papers instead of top shelves.”

Cas shot him a look. “Hey, quit complaining. It’s your fault Mrs Harvelle gave us detention up here,” he argued. “If it wasn’t for you trying to grope her daughter, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Literally. I’d be at home finishing my essays and you’d be watching the home videos you sent in to the animal channel.”

“Jo’s hot, man!” Dean protested petulantly. “And besides: my hand slipped. There…was a bug on her collar.” There was the smug grin on his face that blatantly showed his defence to be a lie.

Cas rolled his eyes. “You need to control that carnal hunger, Dean. You need to respect girls.”

“I do! I respect their legs and their hips and-”

Cas was glaring at him, blue eyes like fire, cutting his sentence. Dean sighed and ruffled his hair. Why the drama department? Why not the P.E cupboard? He could at least work out there or find a javelin to stick through the other boy’s back. He watched Cas hang up the ugly sister dresses and button encrusted jackets, and sort the masks and hats from the plastic swords and crepe wigs. The dark haired kid was in Dean’s homeroom and they had a rocky relationship. They weren’t best friends, or even friends, but they didn’t loath one another, and they could cope with being in each other’s company…sometimes. Cas was always giving him firm looks and criticising lectures on his life choices; how they were ‘immoral’ and ‘unsavoury’ and ‘worth re-evaluating’, as though his religious background and beliefs were some sort of permit to pick away at every small fault or flaw he had. His grammar was also called upon for inspection all the time, too. Dean wondered why Cas’ cheeky, teasing brother Gabriel and Dean’s own younger sibling, Sam, got on famously. But give the older Winchester and Cas more than five minutes alone and they’d be bickering about something ridiculous and petty.

Cas returned from the depths of the rails, racks and box stacks. His head was tilted inquisitively to one shoulder.

“What?”

Dean realised he was staring, and frowned. Cas sagged.

“Whatever. Are you going to help or what? I’m not gonna do all the work,” a sack of fake blood hit Dean’s solar plexus. “I’m not one of your one night stands.”

The boy wandered away into the clothes again. This time, Dean followed, intrigued. 

“Speaking of one night stands…” he mused. Sound was muffled in the maze of costumes.

“No,” Cas answered. “Never had. Not going to be one.”

“What? That’s lame, man,” Dean jabbed him. “What if you were single, and totally gaggin’ for it? Pun intended.”

Cas shook his head, clearly irritated, almost bristling. “Not my style. Like I said: got to have respect.”

Dean made a face. “What’s your deal, anyway? You’re so…frigid. Got to be more adventurous! Is it your folks? Cos, you know, it’s scientifically proven to be healthy to rebel.”

Cas laughed sarcastically. “What would I have to rebel for?”

Dean shrugged. “Your call. Your life.”

“My brother, Gabe, he’s like you. Lots of girls. Always bragging. Really annoying…” Cas chewed his lip. “But I’ve got nothing to brag about, so, uh, he sort of bugs me about it now and again.”

Dean laughed, amazed. They were standing in the back of the props room. The door felt like a trek away. It was as though they were the only ones left breathing anywhere. 

“You’ve never, really?” Dean was grinning. “I’ve seen the way some of the girls gawk at you. I would’ve thought, maybe…wow, Cas. Why not?”

Cas shrugged and didn’t offer a direct reply. “It’s nothing. Drop it. I shouldn’t have said anything. We’re not…”

Friends

“I won’t tell anyone,” Dean assured him, surprisingly tender. “Believe it or not, you’re not exactly in the minority.”

Cas was looking at the floor. “Nah. I don’t believe you. And, anyway, I’d screw it up. I don’t know anything. Girls just don’t…” he fell quiet again but Dean already understood.

Oh.

For a moment he considered bolting. But he didn’t. He stuck where he was.

“Sorry. Did I just make things awkward?” Cas fidgeted.

Dean smiled sheepishly. “Lil’ bit.”

Cas nodded and flipped through a shoe box for a misplaced rubber knife. He turned it over in his hands thoughtfully.

“C’mon. We better get this place tidied or we’ll never leave.”

Dean caught his wrist. “Wait.”

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Why am I doing this? Seriously, dude, why have you become so sympathetic? Has being in this place turned you into a girl or something? But this is helping, right?

He darted forward and pressed his mouth the Cas’, quick and clean. Cas stared at him, stuttered, pushed himself away. He shook his head, backing up, hands splayed in defence. Dean registered him, puzzled and surprised. 

“Dude, I-” he tried, but Cas interrupted. 

“No, Dean, we, I…I can’t, I don’t-”

“But it was me who-”

“No. You have your rep. I have mine. We…I don’t, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not that I…I don’t want your sympathy, Dean. Don’t patronise me.” His voice had gained strength, shaky, sure, but it had power.

“I’m not pat-”

“Please. Before we both do something we’re not proud of.”

The dark haired kid vanished again into the thicket of cloth. Dean grit his teeth, tried to shout after him. But it was useless. He stooped and picked up the rubber knife, contemplating how it would feel to stab it into his chest, pierce the skin and draw blood. He rolled his eyes, frustrated. 

He hung around the props department a little while longer to make sure Cas wouldn’t be there when he left, and headed to the car park for home. Just as he was about to get into his car, he heard a voice calling him. He turned. Cas was shuffling his weight from foot to foot behind him, trying his best not to make eyecontact and to make eyecontact at the same time.

“Uh, hi, Cas.”

“I thought about what you said.”

“I didn’t really…say anything,” Dean muttered.

Cas moved closer. Eyed the car. “Rebelling for something?”

They locked eyes and smiled. Reputations were made for screwing over.

**Author's Note:**

> Urgh. Sorry for the OOC-ness and the flimsy plot; I needed to write SOMEthing. But, hey, it's just fun.


End file.
